there's a flaw in my design

Though Fox insisted he stay, as soon as she had gone off to tend to her Alpha-ly duties, Haunter's thoughts took him directly out of Swiftcurrent Creek. Not far, but he'd left the territory regardless. Long, loping legs took the black bear of skin and bones down to Lower Arrow Lake, where the tranquil aura of the place soothed his wild and confused thoughts.

His head was kept level to his spine, one ear tucked lightly back, shoulders hulking and roving as the lean brute strode through cool grass and loamy soil to the bank of the shimmering morning lake. Haunter stood out in his bright surroundings, a charred smear of something nasty—like thick, black oil—that marred an otherwise beautiful painting.

Wide eyes took in everything around as he crouched to drink. The ripples he created suddenly began to illogically frighten him. He swore he could hear them, like thunder in his sensitive head, and he cringed away from the water abruptly, turning swiftly to assume a quick, nervous pace around its perimeter. His stalk was cat-like and elegant, despite his disheveled and acutely haggard appearance; but the tense way in which his muscles moved beneath ink and shadow alluded to an animal caged.

More than anything, Haunter looked dangerous.